Acceptance
by Silent Epiphany
Summary: Acceptance is a long road to travel. Can Spirit, Stein, Maka, & Soul make it through the trials of learning to love...and learning to accept love? SoulxMaka, SteinxSpirit. Some YAOI content. Rating subject to change. Coauthored with StandingOnTheRooftops
1. Paper Moon

"_**Acceptance"**__** – a joint venture between Silent Epiphany and StandingOnTheRooftops**__**

* * *

**_**Disclaimer: **Nothing owned, nothing gained.  
**Warnings:** Yaoi (as well as het), a pinch of madness!Stein, mild gore, mild language, some various other implications.  
**Pairings:** Stein x Spirit, Soul x Maka  
**Author's Notes: **This is based between episodes 24 and 25 of the anime series. Rating is subject to change, so be forewarned!

_*Spirit and Stein are written by Silent Epiphany_  
_*Soul and Maka are written by StandingOnTheRooftops_

* * *

Did she have to abuse him like this?

Under any normal circumstances, he'd protest-loudly-to such brutal treatment. But circumstances were far from normal, so he kept quiet as his partner and meister attempted to use him as leverage to slow Asura's ascent.

"COME BACK HE~RE!" She screamed up at the demon, gritting against the rocks and dirt that rained down upon her.

And then, in less than the blink of an eye, they were free-falling. Asura flew above them... and they were falling.

No, his mind whispered. Maka, he thought, unaware that he'd spoken her name aloud. She'd never be able to survive this fall; not unconscious. He transformed in mid-air, keeping hold of her hand. No thought for his own self, he just prayed she'd be okay. He tugged her over the top of him, wrapping his arms tight around her and closing his eyes as the ground rushed up at them.

He felt the jar throughout his body as they crashed through a stand of crates. Crates? He thought, a part of him giddy with relief. 'Bout damn time they got some good luck, even if it hurt like hell.

"I have... to stop... th' kishin," she muttered, half-open eyes staring up, a shaking hand reached out.

Even now, half-unconscious, Maka wanted to keep fighting. Unbelievable, he thought. She was truly amazing sometimes with her dedication and will. But he'd never tell her that; not to her face at least.

"You're something else, you know that, right?" He asked softly, holding her close as she finally fainted and gave in to the darkness.

She'd taken on way too much of a beating tonight; even her will couldn't keep her awake even to see the fight between Shinigami-sama himself and Asura. Then again... he doubted she'd have been too thrilled with the outcome. She'd probably insist on chasing the demon down herself.

He shook his head as he gathered up his friend and partner. He might make fun of her sometimes. For something in her appearance, or her book-worm personality. But he did respect her. Hell…he more than respected her. He liked her, admired her. She was brave; how many times did she throw herself head-first into a battle where the odds were against her? She was strong; she was a scythe meister, after all, and so had to be physically and mentally strong. She was smart; top of their class, even if she was sort of a klutz sometimes. She was kind; hadn't she proved that just tonight against the child with the demon sword? And she was determined. She'd won the Crona kid over, and then continued on to try and chase after Asura. And, despite what he said, she was beautiful. When she smiled, her jade eyes lit up like green sunshine.

Their souls resonated perfectly. Not all the time, but there were times. So close, he could all but feel her emotions. So close they were more one being than two. Two fighting as one.

And more than all of that, he thought as he carried her back towards the small apartment they shared. She was his.

His partner, his meister.

His friend.

His…love?

Did he love her? Of course. She was his friend, after all. But…did he love her more than that? Differently?

He looked over his shoulder. Her head was resting there, her ash blond hair falling in wisps out of their usually perfect pigtails. With every step he took, strands brushed his bruised cheek, softer than a feather. Then he looked up at the moon, casting its shadows across the city.

Yeah, he sighed mentally. It was hopeless. He couldn't help but fall in love with her.

…_Flashback…_

"_What're you reading?" He asked, leaning down over the chair she was cuddled up in, trying to read the words of the book in her hands. Call him nosy, call him curious. Or just call it an excuse to smell her. Years of working together…she smelled like home. That was the only way to describe it. She was his home. Within any darkness, she was the light that shined the way, always burning bright. She was his moon, his star. Home._

"_It's a fairy tale," she smiled, glancing up at him with those large green eyes. She babbled for a bit about a girl-a princess naturally-in love with a boy-a commoner-and the trials they had to go through to be with one another._

"_You believe in this?" He asked, tapping the book._

"_Of course," she said, looking at him quizzically. "Everyone believes in love, don't they? Everyone has someone out there that's perfect for them."_

"_Everyone?"_

_She nodded. "Everyone. Even a lazy-bones like you," she added with a grin._

…_End flashback…_

What would she say if she heard his thoughts now? A perfect someone… a soul-mate. She was his soul-mate. He couldn't doubt that for a moment. Had she ever thought that..?

No. He wouldn't go there. Not now. He'd only torture himself with those thoughts…and his thoughts were full enough of things that tormented him as it was.

He'd meant it when he told her he'd die for her. In a heartbeat. She was his soul mate. She was home, and she always would be. She muttered something against his cheek. He couldn't tell what, but it didn't matter. At least her dreams seemed peaceful, he thought, arriving at their home.

It was awkward, trying to get into the apartment with her supported across his back. But he managed somehow, both with the front door and the door to her room as well.

As gently as he could, he lowered her down onto the softness of her bed. She let out a small sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and he could almost feel the tenseness seep out of her. She really should sleep more, he thought. Without thinking, he took off her gloves and unbuckled her boots, slipping them off along with her socks. He moved up, unbuttoning her coat. Supporting her as gently as he could, he slid it down her shoulders before laying her gingerly back down.

He paused, observing her quietly as he pondered calling Tsubaki to come change her into her night clothes. He didn't feel like enduring the Maka Chop that he was bound to receive if he dared undress her himself, but he didn't think she'd be very comfortable in these dirty clothes. And really…who was to say she wasn't injured? But no. He couldn't call Tsubaki. She'd be tending to Black*Star right now. Emotionally and physically, he suspected. Star had taken a beating from what little he'd seen, and Tsubaki would likely have to talk him down and patch him up. Liz and Patti would likely be doing the same for Kid. Keeping up with those two boys were full time jobs for those three poor girls.

At the end of his internal battle, he decided on gently taking the bands out of her hair to keep it from getting even more matted than it already was, and removing her vest and her tie and un-tucking her shirt. At least she'd not be as constricted. And he could always check her over for injury tomorrow. Since he was calling her in, after all.

Oh, she'd have a fit, he smirked, turning her alarm off. But she needed her rest, and he doubted any teacher would really blame them, after the night they'd had tonight. It'd probably be best to call and let them know what had happened to them, anyway. He was surprised that that crazy Papa of Maka's wasn't banging on the doors already.

That's when he started to wonder what happened to everyone else. Kid, Black*Star, Tsubaki, the Thompson sisters. Professor Stein, Maka's father, Sid. Even that annoying little demon-swordsman. So many people were involved tonight. So many people probably hurt. Had anyone been seriously hurt? What about Medusa? Had Stein and Death Scythe held her off? And where the hell was Blair? What had she been doing tonight?

His mind reeled with thoughts of friends and companions. This had to be one fucked up night. But through all of that…he came back to one thing over and over again. Despite the uncertainty surrounding tonight's events and the fates of the people he knew…there was only one thing that mattered. He wondered if it made him less human, or more so, that the only thing he cared about was Maka.

She was safe, she was here. He had Maka. Did that make him a bad friend to everyone else? Not that they mattered less...but that she mattered more? He sighed, trying to shake off those depressing thoughts.

He turned back, looking down at her. She'd moved restlessly, just a bit. One hand tossed up by her head, the other sprawled blindly across the bed.

He couldn't help but smile. Yeah, she was important. Yeah, she was beautiful, with the moonlight streaming in over her, making her glow. He might not tell her, now… or ever…but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He picked up the hand that was sprawled towards him, kissing the bruised knuckles softly before setting it back down on the bed.

"Sleep well, my Maka," he sighed, then turned and left the room. Left her, and left the words…

Those words he couldn't say to her, wouldn't say to her. Those words he wanted to say, the words he needed to say. They wouldn't come out. Except in quiet times like this, where she couldn't hear.

Secrets kept between him and the paper moon hanging in the sky.

* * *

Failure was an unfamiliar feeling for Death Scythe. Even paired with his old partner, who was touted as the most skilled ever to graduate from Shibusen, their best hadn't done. Sure, they'd defeated their enemy, but she was just an obstacle in the way of their ultimate goal. A goal they hadn't met. Asura had awakened, and now they were all in grave danger.

Because of that, Spirit figured the best thing to do would be to return to Shinigami's side, where he should have been from the very beginning. But as soon as he arrived, he found himself sent away just as quickly. As if the unusually cutting tone of the Reaper's voice wasn't disconcerting enough, the instruction he'd given was worse.

"Go to him," Shinigami commanded gravely, "With the madness wavelength spreading, he can't be left alone. We'll handle things here."

The order had made Spirit grumble to himself under his breath. But, as much as he hated constantly being assigned as the one to watch over Stein, Shinigami had a valid point. With the reemergence of Asura's madness wavelength, there was no telling what would become of the scientist if he was left to his own devices. His sanity was fragile enough on the average day, after all.

Pushing back his blazer, Spirit stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and grudgingly made his way toward his former meister's laboratory.

Though he'd been spending entirely too much time with Stein lately, he couldn't deny that being in his grasp again as his weapon was a familiar sensation a part of him had missed. They had stopped being partners ages ago, long before he became Death Scythe, yet they resonated just as strongly as they had in the past, if not more so.

Maka's mother, Kami, had dismissed Stein as not just a lunatic but an inherently evil man, and had little trouble getting her then-husband to see things similarly. Over time, her influence distorted Spirit's perception of the scientist, erasing all he previously knew to be fact and replacing it with fear.

And so it remained until they found themselves partnered again. But, when their souls reconnected for the first time in over a decade, Spirit could feel the old memories flooding back.

The closer he and his former meister got, the higher they resonated, and the more he began to recall what Stein was _truly_ like. Was he deranged? Yes. Sadistic? Probably. But _evil_? Not a chance. At the core, they were actually strikingly similar. Both of them shared the same hedonistic nature, with the defining difference between the two of them being that Stein's pleasures came from a much different source. But despite his deviously brilliant mind, the scientist had a kind heart. Spirit had sensed it on more than one occasion, since everybody felt _something_ when they resonated with their partner.

…Everybody except Stein, apparently. But that was in the past, and perhaps it was better if he didn't know, since it wouldn't make a difference anyhow.

…

"Stein?" Spirit called with a knock to the heavy doors. "Stein, it's me. Open up."

There was no answer. Good thing Stein never kept his laboratory locked.

Pulling open one of the doors, Spirit's eyes immediately fell upon a disturbing sight: Stein, only clothed from the waist down, was soaked with blood, along with the scalpel he still held in one trembling hand. Instead of suturing the deep gash he'd suffered during the fight with Medusa, he was _worsening_ it—exploring it…digging in it. So that was what the madness wavelength was truly capable of doing to Stein. In which case, Spirit had definitely arrived far too late.

Seeing the silhouette of his partner fall along the floor of the laboratory, the scientist froze. The round overhead lights he used during his dissections glared off the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes from view as he stared back at the weapon. Spirit felt a chill crawl up his spine as his former meister's mouth slowly pulled upward into a frenzied grin that paralyzed him on sight.

And in the bat of an eye, Stein was upon him like a wolf on prey.

Spirit felt the oxygen rush from his lungs as the crazed scientist abruptly shoved him against the wall of the laboratory with bruising force. The tip of the bloodied blade he held pointed directly at his carotid artery, millimeters away from piercing the flesh that concealed it.

"What are you doing? Get a hold of yourself, Stein!" the human weapon snapped, but the words fell on deaf ears.

In just the short time they'd been apart, Stein had been consumed by the madness within him. His green irises were tightly constricted in a manic stare. Their piercing gaze cut straight through the lenses of his glasses as though they weren't there. Though he'd been the mad scientist's informal caretaker nearly since the day they'd met, Spirit still found the sight of Stein in such a state deeply disturbing.

"Snap out of it, Stein!"

"So glad you came, Spirit," Stein hissed, his lips pulling back into a sinister snarl full of perfect white teeth. "Now we can pick up where I left off..!"

Spirit had no idea what to do. If he struck Stein, or somehow transformed and otherwise injured him, he'd be dead for certain. Attacking him was a fool's errand, and traditional methods wouldn't work in this situation.

The scientist lurched in closer, his breath caressing Spirit's cheek as his fingers dully clawed at the sutured walls of his laboratory. Stein was far too gone this time; it would take something drastic to pull him back from the depths of his insanity. Spirit could feel his heart slam against his throat as the tip of the blade began to tickle his skin.

There was one thing he could try. Something he'd always longed to do…something crazy and unexpected enough that it just might work.

As Stein leaned in ever closer, Spirit closed the remaining gap between them and pressed their lips together.

It wasn't as Spirit had hoped or imagined a kiss between them would be, but it did do its job. The scalpel once aimed at his neck clattered to the floor, and the pressure on his shoulders that pinned him to the wall gradually rescinded. Unconventional as it was, Spirit's plan had worked.

Stein's eyes were wide and unblinking as the madness that once engulfed his consciousness progressively dissipated and he began to fade back to reality. What had he been doing? When had Spirit come in? He vaguely remembered suturing his own wounds, and he'd most definitely been alone when he was doing so. Furthermore, why did he have the human weapon—his companion and partner—pinned against the wall? He could never forgive himself if he'd let the madness overtake him to the point where he hurt Spirit. Thankfully, it didn't appear as though he had. But then why were his companion's sapphire eyes downcast? Just what had gone on..?

Through the torn, ragged flesh on Stein's abdomen, Spirit could see a steady flow of blood dribbling onto the floor, pooling around their feet. If it was truly all his own, he'd lost far too much. The fact that he was even still standing was a testament to his strength.

"…Senpai?"

His partner's voice was calm but more than a little confused, which was the norm for incidents such as these. It was reassuring to hear.

"Stein…" Spirit's face was fraught with worry, "…you're hurt."

Stein's jade gaze dropped to the crimson puddle they stood in, and, startlingly enough, he let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry. It's not that bad."

The weapon gave his companion an incredulous look. "Coulda fooled me..."

…

Spirit watched as the scientist cleaned and sutured his wound with no anesthetic, and no assistance. Though the sight of it made his stomach turn, he couldn't look away. How anyone was capable of such a thing was mind-boggling. But, from the looks of Stein's upper half, he'd had plenty of practice beforehand.

In the past, Spirit had been there to save him from himself; to ease him down from the brink of insanity. In the wake of his absence, Stein had gone off the deep end in his experimentations. Every time they bumped into one another it seemed he had more scars, more sutures. Without someone else to dismantle…to dissect…he used himself as his own test subject, eventually going so far as to drive a screw through his own head. Spirit couldn't so much as fathom the dynamics of such, but if anyone could do it without killing themselves, it was Stein.

Despite the blood loss and the pain he had to be feeling, when finished with the procedure the scientist nonchalantly climbed down from his table and went about cleaning up the rest of the mess. There were few words between them, even as Stein retreated to his quarters to change out of his blood-soaked clothing and settle into bed.

Though it'd been over a decade, the situation was déjà vu. Thus, as his companion settled himself down under the heavy blanket on his bed and rolled onto his side toward the wall, Spirit knew what he needed to do.

Silently, he retrieved the wheeled office chair from another room and took a seat on it in the manner Stein always did. Folding his arms over the chair's back, Spirit lay his cheek down on the sleeve of his blazer. Once again, he'd found himself roped into another long night.

…

All was quiet and still. So Spirit had gone?

No. He hadn't left. Stein could still feel the warm, familiar presence of his soul nearby.

"Senpai…"

At the sound of the soft whisper, Spirit lifted his head. "Hm?"

"You don't have to stay."

"And leave you alone after all that?" the weapon scoffed, lowering his chin down onto his folded arms. "Like hell."

Unseen by his companion, Stein allowed himself a smile, and let his eyes slide closed.

As the room fell into complete silence once more, Spirit's gaze ambled about the area, pausing at the nightstand where Stein's glasses sat idly. As he stared through the lenses, he gave in to the memories that flooded his consciousness.

For five years, he'd lived with this man. He claimed them to be torturous, but in truth, it wasn't _all_ bad.

Contrary to what others would believe, there truly wasn't a malicious bone in Stein's body. There _were,_ however, many demons. In their time together, Spirit had spent many a night charged with the task of watching over his meister, making certain those evils dwelling within him wouldn't have their way. He couldn't lose Stein to the madness…he meant too much to him to allow that. And so, night after night, he would help chase away the demons. In his mind's eye, he could still clearly see Stein as he was before they parted ways; the way he looked before the years—and the madness—drew lines across his countenance. Only when his face was slack and peaceful did his innocence truly show. Despite the madness dwelling within him, there was something nearly angelic about him as he slept.

Those five years of spending every waking moment together, joining and unjoining their souls, watching him sleep on nights when the madness dwelling within him chased him to insanity, or when he was ill or injured…they meant something. Maybe not to Stein, but surely to Spirit. It was impossible to spend so much time with one person and not feel _something_; especially considering the degree of their involvement. Together, they were the most revered—and the most feared—partnership in all of Shibusen history. Their souls harmonized to an uncanny degree, making them capable of amazing feats.

Those days together were some of the happiest in Spirit's life. His time with Stein only truly became hell when he began to come aware of his feelings for the scientist.

The one and only time he thought his partner might have felt similarly—or at least _understood_—was also one of the few times he consciously recalled being Stein's patient…

…F_lashback_…

_It was while they were procuring one of their final souls. Thinking their victory was sealed, Spirit returned to his human form. _

…_But it was just a bit too soon for that._

_The blow had been intended for Stein, and it would have blindsided him had Spirit not pushed him from its path, almost eviscerating himself in the process. Nearly simultaneous with the shove, the young meister could hear the familiar sound of the tearing of flesh, and the tell-tale choking gasp of pain. Whirling around, he could see mortally wounded Spirit sag to his knees, the hot, sticky crimson of his blood pouring onto the concrete. _

"_Spirit!"_

_As their cowardly foe escaped, the meister retrieved his partner, sweeping Spirit up into his arms without hesitation. At the rate he was hemorrhaging, Shibusen was too far. But his personal laboratory wasn't. _

_As he made haste to get help for his injured partner, words between them were surprisingly scarce. Despite his actions meriting such, Stein made no disdainful remarks, no mention of his weapon's foolishness, or anything of the like. _

_Spirit's breath hitched in his throat and he coughed hoarsely, sending out specks of blood. His vision began to swim as the life rushed from him, making him weaker; defeating him more with each passing second._

"_Stay with me, senpai!" _

_Stein hauled his partner's limp body back to the laboratory, both of them soaked in his blood by the time they arrived. In his haste, the meister brushed everything from his table onto the floor to make room for Spirit, immediately tearing back the weapon's clothing to see the full extent of the wound._

_There was no glee in his eyes then. Despite the fact that he was getting to do what he loved to do, he didn't appear to take any joy in it. Instead, his face was grave and serious. _

_Spirit's consciousness wavered, beginning to fade in and out. _

_As the pain and shock of injury pulled him under at last, the final thing he remembered discerning was concern—no, __panic__—in Stein's jade irises as he worked fervently to mend the wound… _

_And the next thing he knew, he was within the warmth and comfort of a bed. Clean white sheets were pulled up to armpit height, with only one limb lying exposed atop the sea of colorless fabric. _

_Stein seemed to know the exact moment he came to._

"_Ah, so you're awake..."_

_Before his eyes would focus, he could hear the sound of a wheeled chair rolling toward him, and smell the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke. Pushing back the section of scarlet hair that always hung in his face, Stein's slender fingers danced over his forehead for all too brief a moment, checking for fever._

"_Don't try to move," he stated in a hushed voice. "The wound is healing fine, but you need to rest." _

_As the world came back into clear view, he could see Stein draw in a breath, taking a long drag from a cigarette and blowing smoke up toward the ceiling. There were lines of fatigue drawn across his face. Had he gotten any sleep at all? Just beyond him on a nightstand was an ashtray overflowing with various oddly smashed cigarettes. If he __had__ rested, he hadn't gone far to do so. _

_Just as Spirit began to groggily ponder his meister's motives for being so vigilant, Stein gave the back of his exposed hand a brief pat. _

"_Try to go back to sleep, senpai."_

_...End flashback…_

For Spirit, the very definition of true torment was loving someone who knew nothing of the concept. The scenario with Stein, however, was far worse than just that: Not only was the meister completely ignorant of love, but he hadn't the slightest desire to learn anything about it. He was far too consumed with science, his studies, and his experiments.

Seeing no point in pursuing the idea further, Spirit found himself taking an approach similar to that of his oblivious companion. He preoccupied himself with the company of multiple women, reveling in whatever love and attention he could garner.

But everything changed when he met Kami.

Spirit still hadn't forgotten the look on his meister's face when the woman who would become his wife came to say she was going to become the scythe's new partner. Stein had dismissed it with a small chuckle as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with a slender index finger.

"Fine," he'd said, and acerbically turned his back. "Good luck to the both of you."

But in the split second before he spoke, Spirit swore he could see hurt in his eyes. Then again, clouded judgment made it tough to discern between what he wanted to see and what was actually there.

Stein's work with the scythe had been nearly complete when she entered the picture. He had strived for years to gather the souls necessary to turn his weapon partner into a Deathscythe. In the end it was Kami who completed the task and got all the credit when she'd only finished a job forged on Stein's own sweat and blood.

After the new partnership's great achievement, things between them soured remarkably quickly. He was never truly Spirit Albarn anymore after she completed him…he became Death Scythe to everyone, including her. The more time passed, the more Spirit began to see that Kami loved him not as an individual, but as an accomplishment of hers. One she'd moved on from.

To make matters worse, Stein had moved on as well. Though he'd never admit it for any reason, seeing his former meister with a young woman on his arm evoked far more emotion than just surprise from Spirit.

Everything had happened for a reason, though. Had he never left to be with Kami, she wouldn't have given birth to the most important person in his life: their beautiful daughter Maka.

At the thought of her, an unsettling feeling crept into his gut. He hadn't heard anything about her whereabouts since Stein mentioned her during the battle with Medusa. Had she been injured? Was she okay? His pulse began to race. He wasn't blessed with the ability to sense souls like she and Stein were, and he wasn't about to attempt to wake the sleeping scientist to ask that favor of him. He'd just have to go and confirm it for himself. Sure, he had strict orders not to leave Stein's side, but he'd already angered Shinigami-sama, so what did he truly have to lose?

Springing up from his patchwork seat, he briefly tugged his black blazer up onto his shoulders and headed for the door.

As his hand grasped the knob, a soft noise from his slumbering companion as he sleepily rolled over stopped him in his tracks.

Spirit's head drooped. Just as much as he needed to go and see that his darling daughter was safe, he knew Stein needed him to stay. The difference was that, much as he hated to admit it, Maka _did_ have someone to look after her.

Sapphire eyes turned to his resting companion, and that serene face that he'd missed the sight of so dearly. Just the same as he himself was obligated to look after the scientist, Soul had a duty to protect and care for Maka.

Settling back down onto the sutured chair, he sighed softly to himself. He had no choice but to trust in their partnership and try to ease his worried mind, since, for the time being, his place was with Stein.

* * *

**ANs: **Read and review! ^_^ Please? Because we love it when that happens!


	2. Scars

**Chapter Two: Scars**

Despite the tragedy of the night before—the victories and defeats, the blood spilled, hearts broken and mended—a new morning dawned, the same as it ever had before. And it was to this breaking dawn that Stein's jade eyes flickered to life once more.

While the rest of the world, reveling in the light of a new day, seemed to have forgotten about all that had transpired, Stein's own body certainly hadn't. It was proof that last night was not just some distant nightmare, and that, like it or not, he was indeed getting older. Wincing slightly at his body's stinging protests, he rose to a sitting position and reached out to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand.

He didn't need them to see that he wasn't alone. Slumped over the seat's sutured back, his former partner was sound asleep, snoring softly with his cheek smashed against his loosely folded arms. Beneath the crimson hair that had shifted forward to further shroud his face, Stein could see the weapon drooling onto the sleeve of his black blazer.

Shaking his head at the sight of him, he let the smallest of grins play across his lips. So Spirit hadn't left, after all. Surprise, surprise. With all that had transpired the scientist honestly figured his companion would slink off at some point during the night, even just to check on his beloved daughter, Maka. Yet, here he was, his seat pulled up close to the bedside, peacefully slumbering as though he hadn't moved in quite some time.

Even more surprising was a strange abnormality present in Spirit's soul wavelength. There was something…_different_ about it. It was minute at most, but knowing Spirit as well as he did, Stein could still detect it. Something had shifted…even from the fight just hours before. What had happened in the time since that would warrant a change? He wanted to know. And he had the means of finding out. It wouldn't take much…

No, he told himself; experimenting on one's body for the sake of science was one thing, and searching someone's soul for selfish gain was another. While he'd experimented with Spirit's flesh, he'd never gone so far as to read his soul, despite having the capability. Regardless the high level of resonation between the two of them, he'd always honored the weapon's privacy, and kept himself from viewing his soul. It wasn't as though he would find anything interesting by doing so, anyhow.

But, feeling a slight difference in Spirit's soul wavelength for the first time, Stein was confronted with a very real temptation to seek out what could have caused the shift. While his principles didn't quell the urge to do so, he could refrain…for the time being.

Rising stiffly to his feet, the Professor pulled the blanket from his bed, and draped it gently over Spirit's shoulders. It was the least he could do for his partner. From there he retrieved his lab coat and a pack of cigarettes and made his way outside.

…

The morning air was bitter cold as he stepped out into it; it instantly encapsulated his body in an icy cocoon, chilling all it touched. Unbothered by such, Stein fished about in a pocket for his lighter, and sparked up his first cigarette of the day. As the smoke and his breath mingled and danced upward together in the frigid air, he thought over all that had transpired recently.

It was good to have a partner again, even though it was only temporary. Though he'd never admit it, having Spirit in his hands once more as his weapon was nostalgic for Stein. Despite the fact that they'd rarely seen each other throughout the last decade and hadn't paired since he'd become Death Scythe, they still worked as the same perfect team they once were. What they did together as meister and weapon was truly beautiful, even more so than it had been in the past.

Spirit's strength had increased dramatically since being completed. With how powerful he'd become, it was no surprise he'd been selected as Shinigami-sama's personal weapon. Then again, Stein had known from the very beginning that Spirit would someday be worthy of such…

Even when they were younger, Stein knew his partner had a vast amount of potential. He'd sensed it from the moment they'd first resonated. He also knew the weapon found his new meister intimidating and frightening, to say the least. All things considered, it wasn't an unexpected or unwarranted response. After all, there was always that ever-present bit of madness that ebbed within Stein's mind, threatening to inch its claws around his soul.

Meanwhile however, Stein knew Spirit had the ability to exert a certain level of control over him. Shinigami knew it; that's why they'd been partnered in the first place. In fact, it seemed the only one who was acutely unaware of such was Spirit himself. The weapon had a remarkable effect on his partner; both on his soul, and his sanity.

Spirit was unusually animated for a weapon. He was irrational, impulsive, emotional, needy, and Stein's personal favorite: gullible. It was ironic how a weapon could be considered far more human than its meister. Then again, he always had been.

Late at night while he was buried deep in his textbooks—organic chemistry, anatomy and physiology, infectious diseases, the list went on—Stein would struggle to tune out the suggestive sounds of his weapon partner engaging in his unsavory activities. Eventually he invested in a pair of headphones, that way he didn't hear Spirit until he saw him, which was usually as he saw off his lady of the evening.

Usually, it was a different face every night, but after a while, Stein had noted that there was one woman in particular who was becoming a recurring presence around their residence.

Oh yes, he knew all about _her._ Her name was Kami, and she was a skilled scythe technician who was easily as intuitive as she was headstrong and independent. Stein was also quite aware that she didn't care much for him; but then again, she was among the majority in that sentiment. His weapon was probably the only one he knew who felt otherwise, which made sense given that Spirit was the only person he considered close to him. In the years they spent as partners, no matter what they went through, the scythe was by his side come what may, always watching out for him. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, he could roll over and see Spirit slumped down in a chair, head bobbing as he struggled to keep himself awake so that he could make sure his meister was okay.

And so, Stein didn't let the woman trouble him much. Given what he'd already seen, he knew better than to think she would be more than a phase. Spirit would tire of her shortly, just the same as he did with every other female companion he entertained. It was only a matter of time.

The last thing he'd anticipated was what actually happened.

While his roommate was hard at work with his pre-medical studies, Spirit said goodnight to Kami, and closed the door behind her. Peering up from the array of textbooks and notes spread out around him on the floor where he sat, Stein watched as his weapon partner strolled by. Clothed only in ratty denim jeans with his crimson hair tied back in the tiniest of loose ponytails, he almost seemed to float back to his room in a love-struck daze. The distinct scent of a woman's perfume hung in the air behind him as he passed.

"Man, I'm tellin' ya…she's the one," he sighed dreamily to his studying companion.

Stein pushed a pair of slender reading glasses up on the bridge of his nose with an index finger. "Is that so?"

"She's amazing," his partner answered, "I think…I think I'm _in love_ with her, Stein…"

Having no suitable reply, the meister turned his attention back to the piles of books and pages of notes sprawled around him. _In_ love? How could someone be _in _love? When broken down into its most rudimentary elements, what more was love than a mere chemical and electrical response in the body? Nothing. That was exactly how Stein saw it, and how he would always see it. It was all nothing more than neurotransmitters and electrical impulses. While Spirit might see fit to waste his time with it, his partner had bigger things in mind.

But all those things seemed to temporarily evade him for the moment. All that remained were the weapon's words echoing in his head, replaying time and time again. Frustrated, Stein slammed his textbooks shut. There was no use in studying anymore; he simply wasn't able to concentrate.

What was that annoying emotion that had suddenly consumed him? Was it…jealousy?

Well, jealous or not, it didn't matter. He had no time to bother with the concept of "love". Even if he took an interest in such foolishness, he could think of at least eight logical reasons why Spirit was the worst person possible to be his first experiment in that area.

It came as more than just a surprise when, after all they'd been through as partners, he still left to be with Kami. With how flirtatious he was during their days at Shibusen, he was surprised to know Spirit could commit to _anyone, _let alone _her_. Still, it was his responsibility to be supportive. Spirit would have done the same if the roles were reversed.

Good for him, he talked himself into thinking; perhaps he'd found someone he could commit to, rather than constantly hopping from one woman to another.

But in the time following his departure, a part of him felt empty. It was as though Spirit had left behind a void where he used to be…an empty space that Stein didn't have any means of filling. Ever the scientific mind, the meister assured himself it was the loss of his research subject, and nothing more. Once he procured a new specimen to occupy his mind, the feeling would go away.

But even after he did so, it didn't alleviate what ailed him. Every time he rolled over and saw no one sitting there, he couldn't help but feel…strangely _alone_.

Without his faithful partner around, the days and nights ran together. Weeks became months, and months turned to years. Without Spirit's vibrant scarlet hair and piercing sapphire eyes, life seemed to lose its color, diminishing to shades of gray. Even the experiments and dissections became lackluster and routine for a while.

Understandably, when word came down that Spirit was planning to wed the meister that replaced him and finished the task of turning him into a Deathscythe, Stein decided he needed to see it for himself.

Despite the fact that he knew Kami didn't want him there he attended anyhow, finding a seat near the back of the chapel. Dressed in dark formal wear—a suit he'd rented just for the occasion—he probably blended in in the crowd so well that neither of them noticed he'd come. Their wedding was small, but fittingly beautiful. The bride wore a traditional flowing white dress, (which, given that she'd been in a relationship with Spirit, didn't suit her), and her groom was equally as elegant in a tuxedo and high-polish dress shoes. He'd even tied his crimson locks back into small, neat ponytail.

Stein stayed only long enough to hear the exchanging of vows before slipping outside just as discreetly as he'd arrived. Absently digging into a coat pocket, he retrieved his lighter while his mind wandered elsewhere. So Spirit-senpai—no, _Death Scythe_—had really taken the plunge, and married his new technician… It was a unique concept: Meister and weapon, united in the sacred bonds of matrimony. As he sparked up a cigarette, he pondered the dynamics of such a relationship, and if it really had any staying power.

Normally, he would have dismissed it without a second thought. After all, the average relationship with Spirit didn't see so much as a six week anniversary, nonetheless a wedding. But this time around, Spirit seemed genuinely content. His soul certainly exuded the joy his face had displayed as they'd stood hand-in-hand at the altar. Kami made him far happier than he'd been with any other of the countless women he'd gone through. Perhaps he'd found that which most thought unattainable; perhaps they belonged together. From what he'd seen, Stein had no inclination to believe otherwise.

A stream of smoke trailed from his mouth as he silently shuffled away from the crowded chapel, making his way back home. One single sentiment repeated in his mind: _'Good for you, senpai. Good for you.' _

And so, while Spirit enjoyed family life and raised a brilliant daughter, Stein buried himself in his studies, eventually earning the right to call himself Doctor Stein. Somewhere within his years of education he couldn't help but take notice of a particular young woman who actively pursued him: A kind-hearted weapon named Marie.

Being openly _loved_ by someone for the very first time was awkward for Stein, originally. He wasn't quite sure how relationships worked; she was his first experiment in romantic interaction, after all. Thankfully, she was as patient as she was affectionate, and guided him through, step by step.

In the end, however, they found their lives were headed in different directions. Marie's desires were very conventional: Marriage, kids, a nice house in a quiet neighborhood…none of that mattered to Stein, yet it was paramount to her. He did enjoy kids, but did he want any of his own? Not particularly. He couldn't imagine himself being a better husband than he would be as a father, either.

So, try as they might, their divergent paths eventually tore them apart, and their relationship gradually dissolved, leaving him alone once more.

Meanwhile, Spirit's life came full circle in a similar manner. It didn't surprise the scientist one bit to learn that their marriage had ended in divorce. Kami was nothing if not perceptive, and with Spirit's perpetually flirtatious nature, it was probably only a matter of time before he was up to his old tricks again.

Some things never changed. At his core, Stein hadn't; and neither had Spirit, given that he'd stayed by his former meister's side all night. Waking to the sight of his scarlet-haired companion was certainly a blast from the past. At first thought, there wasn't anything particularly odd about it; everything he did was no more than any good weapon would feasibly do for their partner.

Only…he wasn't Death Scythe's partner. Calling them "friends" could probably even be considered a stretch. So, why then had he stayed? It was unlike him, especially given that he hadn't seen his darling daughter Maka since they'd last parted ways, some time ago. Why he _came_ was simple enough to answer, but why did he stay the night?

He could feel himself reaching the precipice of a great discovery; a revelation waiting beyond the tips of his fingers, just out of reach. Unconsciously, a hand snaked upward to his temple and began to slowly turn the screw, filling his mind with the familiar clicking sound.

Not only had Spirit spent the night by his side, but he'd somehow pulled him back from the depths of madness, as well. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd done it, but whatever it was had worked. Couple both of those things with the change in Spirit's soul wavelength, and…

The screw snapped into place.

Digging into a pocket, he retrieved a fresh cigarette and his stainless steel zippo lighter. Flipping back the lid, he sparked it up. The flame flickered back at him, dancing gracefully in a chilly morning breeze as he pursued the epiphany that was eluding him.

Could it be that there was something more behind Spirit's actions..? They were the same as those he'd taken while they were partners, so…had there perhaps _always_ been something more behind them? Had he been simply overlooking it all these years, or was he _unwilling_ to see it..?

His sights returned to the lighter, and suddenly, it wasn't just a flame.

It was the kishin's eye. Watching him…waiting for that moment of weakness where madness could sweep away his sanity forevermore.

Instinctively, he dropped the lighter, never hearing the sound of it clattering on the concrete below. What he heard instead was a voice calling his name.

"_Stein…"_

He jerked, a single jade eye narrowing questioningly. Was that Spirit? No. Then who? And from where?

…

As the light of sunrise cascaded through an unobstructed window, Spirit slowly roused, finding himself quite warm and surprisingly comfortable. At some point, he'd acquired a blanket—one that was thick, worn, and cozy. He couldn't remember it being there when he'd fallen asleep, which meant that Stein had procured it for him…which also meant that Stein was already awake.

Blinking his hazy sapphire eyes into focus, his gaze immediately fell upon the scientist's bed.

It was empty. He was alone.

Oh no. Where had Stein gone? If anything had happened to the Professor, they would all blame him. He'd been entrusted with the meister's care, and he'd messed up.

Panic over his missing companion combined with the clumsiness from his sleepy daze nearly sent him sprawling face-first onto the floor as he tripped over a wheeled leg of the chair while bolting from the bedroom. The laboratory was completely vacant; there was no trace of its resident. Nearly frantic, Spirit dashed to the front door and threw it open, eyes temporarily blinded by the sudden change in light setting.

"Stein!" He called, his cry piercing the cold morning air.

"Morning, senpai," a soft voice responded. Stein's voice. Spirit could feel the tension in his body seep out through his toes as soon as the words graced his ears.

His companion stood on the front patio, a small wisp of smoke trailing upward from the tip of his lit cigarette. Spirit exhaled audibly in relief, slumping against the doorjamb of the laboratory's entrance.

Stein turned, perking a curious brow at the scythe. Always overreacting, he thought; always worried over nothing.

"Sleep well?" The meister queried glibly, not anticipating a reply.

Spirit's face flattened. He hadn't intended to doze off, but then again, it wasn't completely feasible to think that he could stay awake all night after such a hard-fought battle. Controlling Stein's wavelength alone was enough to exhaust him.

Straightening his cross-shaped tie and brushing back his still sleep-mussed crimson locks, he approached his companion's side.

"How's it look?" He inquired, gesturing to the wound the scientist had sealed last night.

Lips tightening around the cigarette in his mouth, Stein pulled up the bottom of his shirt to reveal a vertical row of neat, clean, fresh sutures aligned perfectly along the midline cleft of his stomach.

"I do top-notch work," he grinned. "You should know."

Spirit shook his head, chuckling softly. His fingers unconsciously found the scar from his most grievous injury…the one that Stein had sutured himself. The tips of his digits played at the indentation where the stitches had once been. Seeing this out of the corner of his sight, Stein cast a green eye to his companion.

That's right. The first time he'd truly felt fear was when he'd almost lost Spirit…

_~His hands had begun to tremble, shaking harder, more noticeably as his weapon's consciousness left him. Spirit was asleep, not dead; he could still feel the warmth and familiarity of his soul close by. He could also feel the pain radiating from him; it had simply overwhelmed him, that's all. It was for the best actually, since nobody should be awake with an injury that severe. Spirit passing out saved him the trouble of putting him under with a general anesthetic. But that offered little consolation for the scientist. _

_Science and emotion were two separate aspects, and he had no trouble detaching one from the other. Looking down into the gaping wound in his companion's stomach as it gurgled blood, Stein could see the mending that needed to be done. His cold, calculating mind had already formulated a plan of action that would save Spirit's life. However, for some reason, he found it wasn't that simple…_

_No matter how many times he'd sewn up Spirit while he slept, this time it was different. All at once, confidence left him, and he felt cold and unsure…~ _

"Let me see it."

Spirit's eyebrows knitted. "What?"

"The scar. Let me see it."

Amazingly enough, he didn't need to detail further; despite the many scars that had covered Spirit's body over the course of his life, he knew which one Stein meant. Even more surprising was the way Death Scythe gave in, un-tucking a portion of his olive green shirt to reveal the mark.

The many years after the accident had left not much more than a knotted horizontal line that indented Spirit's skin, running from just above his hip at his right side, to just below his navel. It hadn't been Stein's best work—after all, he was much younger and less experienced then-but it had been enough to stop the bleeding and ultimately keep Spirit alive.

Stein crouched before his companion to examine the scar more closely. "Oh, that healed nicely," he commented with a smirk.

Spirit blanched and averted his eyes to avoid seeing the hungry, near-manic gleam the scientist's jade orbs would certainly hold. "God, you're creepy…"

He could feel the man's warm breath fall on the exposed flesh, and then…

The pad of a fingertip, as it slowly dragged over the marred skin. Not probing, like he expected of Stein…but slow, and more gentle. It almost tickled.

"Stein..?"

The scientist lifted his head, a glare on his lenses temporarily concealing his eyes from view as he withdrew his hand and rose to his feet.

"I thought you said all the scars were gone," he remarked flatly as his companion went about re-tucking his shirt.

"That's the only one left. It probably won't ever go away."

Stein merely hummed in reply. Some things never changed.

Bringing his hand to his lips once more, he took one final puff off of his cigarette before flicking it to the concrete and quashing it under the heel of his boot.

"Let's go see how that darling daughter of yours is doing."

* * *

Maka knew the moment he truly woke up. Some part of her was always connected to him; it was just a matter of if she cared to pay attention to it or not.

She'd woken up this morning, stiff, groggy...but oddly comfortable, despite all of that. Her hair was falling free around her, her boots set perfectly by her bed, and her vest, tie and coat all draped across the chair in her room.

Someone had to have carried her home, she'd realized. She recalled brief moments from last night. Fighting Crona and the demon sword. Chasing Asura. Soul...

She remembered lots about Soul. Saving her from the madness after she'd fought with Crona. Protecting her from... she couldn't remember. All she remembered was his arms safe and tight around her. And smiling gently down at her in the moonlight.

Was it sad that the majority of her good memories from the past four years were of him? Was it sad that the majority of her not-that-good memories from the past four years involved him? She'd realized, thinking that morning, that Soul had become her past, present and future.

He'd become her entire life.

And she couldn't find it in her to regret that. In fact, it thrilled her. It made some little part of her happy and content. She wouldn't rather have it any other way.

Looking up, she saw him almost stagger into the kitchen, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. After a quick shower, she'd traded her dirty shirt and skirt for a simple track outfit. It was comfy, and she didn't plan on leaving the house today, so it would suffice.

For only a brief moment, she wondered what she looked like to him. Sitting here in her old pink sweat outfit, her still damp hair hanging around her bruised face- she'd bandaged a bad scrape on her cheek already. At least the long sleeved clothes covered the worst of her injuries. Did she look haggard? Weak? Frail?

From under the shaggy bangs that wanted to fall forward into his face, Maka could see his red eyes observing her as she picked at the sandwich and chips in front of her.

Her own jade eyes blinked up at him when he came in. Warily, he sat down; and for a brief flash, she could sense his soul... waiting. Waiting for her to rant about missing school. Waiting for the Maka Chop.

Instead, he got the smallest and sweetest of smiles.

"Thank you," she said, ducking her head, taking a bite of her sandwich and pushing a second plate towards him. He blinked at the sandwich and chips. That wasn't what he was expecting, she knew, but... he wasn't going to complain, either.

He reached out, took a chip and crunched on it, all the while watching her.

"Don't mention it. It's what any cool guy would do."

She let herself smile. Good old Soul. She took a dainty bite of her bread.

"I called the Academy. Kid and Black*Star are doing fine. They're all in the home, though, recovering. They wanted to know why we never showed up at Shibusen last night."

Soul ducked his head, taking a bite of food. "Well, neither of us seemed really hurt that bad-just tired. And where we landed was closer to home than the Academy. At least I _did_ let them know where we were. I could have just let them worry, you know?"

She chuckled. "We can go see Kid and Star later. But now...I just don't want to move from here. I wanna stay home. Besides, Shinigami-sama told us to not do anything until we were healed."

"We could both use a little rest after last night," he sighed, and then truly began to eat.

She finished at the same time as he, and stood to gather their plates. As she stretched to grab his plate, she could feel the strain in her side, and couldn't help the small gasp of pain that escaped her.

"Maka?" He was immediately worried.

"It's nothing," she said. It wasn't completely a lie. Somehow, she'd never noticed last night, but she'd been cut. Probably by that demon sword sometime or other. Maybe by Medusa. She really couldn't remember, she was so high on adrenaline at the time. She's washed it this morning, and it wasn't too terribly bad

"You're lying," Soul decided.

"Just a scratch. Nothing major."

"Sit down," he ordered, removing the plates from her hands and pushing her towards the couch. Their first aid kit was already on the coffee table- sometimes, it seemed it rarely moved from that spot it was used so often.

"Soul..." she complained.

"Shut up. What side is it on? Where? You are going to let me see."

She sighed, knowing it was useless to argue with him. Besides... it was cute to see him worried over her. He rarely took the lead in this odd relationship of theirs, and it was always nice to see him do so.

"Right side," she sighed, and unzipped her jacket so that she could pull up her T-shirt enough to show him the wound on her abdomen. A simple, clean slice. It wasn't too deep, but it was long, stretching from just above the waist band of her pants by her belly button, to under her ribs, straight down from her underarm.

"Damn," he muttered, retrieving gauze and antiseptic. "Nothing, you say."

"It's fine," She squirmed as his hands, so gentle, brushed against her skin.

"No it's not," he replied, beginning to wipe down the wound.

She sucked in a breath as the antiseptic burned. "That hurts worse than the wound," she whimpered. Maybe not really, but things always hurt worse healing than they did when you got them, it seemed.

Soul chuckled, leaning forward to blow across the affected skin. "Wimp," he retaliated.

"Soul?" she whispered.

"Yeah?" He asked, covering the wound in gauze and tape before looking up. Jade eyes met ruby.

"Thanks again for last night," she said, blushing a bit. "You really are the greatest partner ever."

"I know," he smirked, and she noticed how unnervingly close their faces were. She could feel his cool breath mingling with her own, and she could see every tiny fleck of color in his eyes.

What was this, she wondered. What was this feeling? The little queasiness in her stomach that had nothing to do with her lunch, or her wounds. The little butterflies that danced around inside her.

"Maka?" He breathed, and she could see, feel him leaning closer and closer. Their lips were so close, almost touching, but not. The butterflies began a frenzy, the queasiness doubling in intensity. Something was about to happen.

His soul and hers, matched perfectly for one bright, brief moment, lips touching in the softest of caresses. Heat, gentle and warm, where his hand touched her arm, and his other still rested so lightly against the bare skin of her side.

His heart reaching out to hers, a balm for her wounds, just as his hand on her skin felt so right, so healing. His hand, soft, covered her fresh wound, and she knew it would one day turn into a scar. Just another scar, just another story, another memory. A memory forever tied to his kiss. It was beautiful, and she wanted that moment to never end.

And then, the door opened.


	3. Discovery

**Chapter Three: Discovery**

Eager and not thinking to knock, Spirit twisted the knob on the front door of his daughter's apartment.

"Maka, your Papa's here!" He chimed cheerily, and invited himself inside.

As soon as he entered they blew apart like magnets reversing polarities, but it was far too late. His eyes had already fallen upon them, the image they saw permanently etched into the Deathscythe's memory. His darling daughter and that good-for-nothing scythe of hers had been—the very words made his blood pressure skyrocket—_making out_?

"Just what the _hell _do you think you're doing?" Spirit bellowed, venom dripping from his words.

Soul was more than a little perturbed at having an unexpected guest; especially when that guest was Maka's overbearing and completely irrational father.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Soul spat. "Or do you always just barge in on people?"

Spirit stomped over to his daughter's weapon. Who did he think he was, talking to _him_ that way? "You're just mad that I caught you red-handed!"

The younger scythe perked a brow at the man incredulously. _Red-handed_, like a common criminal? What the hell? Was he delusional? He knew the answer to that question.

"I knew I couldn't trust you to keep your filthy hands off of her!" Death Scythe snapped, only inches from the boy's face.

Soul had heard just about enough.

"Filthy? Oh yeah, you're one to talk, with all the stuff going on between you and Stein!"

And that was when Spirit's face—and mind—went completely blank.

"I should _kill_ you, you little bastard!" the Deathscythe snarled.

"Shut up you pervy old fart!" Soul growled. "Don't make me hurt you!"

From her vantage point, Maka could see the deep ruby of Soul's blade emerge from his arm, and the ebony of her father's own scythe form as it curled up from his shoulderblade. She sighed to herself. Were all men this egotistical, or was it just scythes? Regardless, she figured there was only one way to get them to shut up for any length of time.

Closing her eyes in a prolonged blink she grabbed the closed first aid kit from the coffee table.

"Maka…CHOP!"

Twice in rapid succession the item came down, backed by the righteous fury of the blonde scythe-meister. Confident she had their attention, she made her point as quickly and clearly as possible.

"Papa, get over it! And Soul, stop encouraging him! Grow up!" she snapped. "Both of you!"

As her two victims nursed their respective wounds, she stormed out of the room.

"Maka! Maka wait!" Soul called after her, but was greeted only with the slamming of her bedroom door, and the familiar click of its lock as it moved into place.

"Ugh," she cried, flopping face down onto her bed. Stupid men! Then she cringed as her side protested her movement. Stupid men. Everything had been perfectly fine-she had been in heaven, actually-but of course as soon as her Papa walked in everything got shot to hell.

Who did he think he was, barging into her home and trying to order her about? Threatening _her_ weapon! Like he could say anything, anyway. Stupid cheating, unfaithful, perverted excuse for a father.

And Soul! She should have expected that. Spirit didn't like Soul, and Soul didn't like Spirit. It was that simple. But, of all things…accusing her Papa of…of…_filthy_ things with Dr. Stein? That was just too unbelievable. So completely unbelievable that...

Maka blinked into her pillow.

So completely unbelievable that there might have been some truth behind it.

The more she thought about it...the more she could see it.

Her Papa was wrong in his convictions. There was nothing wrong between her and Soul. In fact...it was right. Or...it _had_ been right. Not anymore.

But maybe Soul was right. Maybe there was something there...

And thinking about it was giving her a headache.

Stupid men.

…

Even from the street outside, Stein could hear yelling and squabbling, followed by several curious thumping sounds. What exactly was going on in there? He perked a brow curiously. Maybe he should check on them, just in case…

Before he could, Spirit emerged, rubbing his head painfully.

"What was that all about?" his former meister queried.

"Nothing," the Deathscythe snapped, never once even casting a glance to his companion.

It was the last word he'd hear from Spirit for an unnervingly long time, even as they traveled back to the laboratory.

Spirit wished the blow to his head had obliterated his thoughts as it usually did. But instead, his mind was reeling, replaying all that had just happened.

God damn that snarky shark-toothed brat of a weapon! The nerve of that little bastard, insinuating things about him and Stein! Where did that sick pervert get off even _thinking_ that way? Furthermore, what made him think he had the right to touch his daughter?

He sighed quietly. His precious Maka…his baby girl…

They used to be so close…

Back when she was younger they were nearly inseparable. They spent the lot of the daytime together, and he read to her most every night before tucking her in. But their relationship, as blissful as it was, didn't numb him to everything else that was going on. It couldn't fill all the voids. It couldn't replace the cold emptiness he felt as he and Kami slept on opposite sides of the bed every night; how she had no desire to touch him, or talk to him. She had no time for him anymore, and it wasn't a priority for her to alleviate that problem. At some point the realization struck Spirit that even he and _Stein_ had been closer than he and his own _wife _were. At least Stein listened to him…at least Stein wasn't ashamed to be seen with him. Well, not outwardly at least.

But that didn't matter. He'd made the correct choice when he'd left to be with Kami. Being with her—loving her—was the right thing to do, even if she didn't always appear to return it. She was the mother of the person who mattered most in his life, after all. Unfortunately such facts offered him little comfort as she continued to become progressively more distant from him, taking Maka with her in the process. So it came to seem that—in addition to Kami having no need for her husband—their daughter didn't have a need for him, either. He became a stranger in his own home…a piece of the scenery, rather than a member of the family. Dejected and lonely, Spirit sought comfort for his woes, and turned to the worst possible place to do so. Before he knew it, he was caught in a vicious cycle: The further away they slipped, the worse he felt, and the wider he inadvertently made the rift between he and his family.

As luck would have it, it was right around that time that Kami unleashed her coup de grace, and served him with divorce papers. It twisted the knife he'd already had stuck in him, and further proved his theory that he was nothing more than an accessory in her life. Worse yet, when he most needed his darling daughter to be on his side, she wasn't. Instead, she hated him. But then again, no matter how close they were in the past, Maka had always turned to Kami first. She'd always been her mommy's girl.

And as much as loving Kami was the right thing to do, Spirit couldn't deny where his affections truly lay…where they always had, despite the wedding, the birth of his daughter, and everything before and since. Fight them though he did, they still remained, just as prominent and real as they always had been.

That didn't change the fact that Soul was still wrong. There had never been anything between them, and there never would be. He'd accepted that over a decade ago.

Brushing back his blazer and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks, he pushed such thoughts from his head, forcing them back into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind, where they belonged. He had indeed been spending far too much time with Stein.

On the heels of that realization, a metal clinking noise snapped Spirit back to the present as his former meister finished lighting up yet another cigarette. Despite his previous revelation, he found the two of them sitting side by side on the front steps of the patchwork laboratory. He'd been so deep in thought that he hardly recalled making the journey.

Watching an unfamiliar blood red sky turn a deeper maroon as the sunlight faded, Spirit eventually revealed what had gone on earlier at Maka's apartment.

"Soul and Maka? Are you sure?" the scientist inquired tentatively.

"Of course I'm sure! I _did_ catch him with his hand up her shirt and his tongue down her throat!" his former partner grumbled, and visibly slumped.

Stein listened with half a mind as his crimson-haired companion continued to prattle on about the whole disaster. Though Spirit had always been something of an emotional rollercoaster, talking about his daughter made him unusually weepy.

"Here," he said, and tossed his companion a lighter. "Take one. It helps." Stein suggested, extending the opened pack of cigarettes his way. He watched as Spirit accepted the offer and ungracefully fumbled with the zippo before finally getting the end of his cigarette lit. At least with that in his mouth, Stein mused, he could hope for some sort of placebo effect. He'd never been one for the weapon's blubbering after all, especially when it was over something so unavoidable and insignificant.

So he'd caught his daughter and the weapon engaging in a few extracurricular activities. So what? Maka wasn't going to stay his little girl forever. She was growing up, just as a bright, independent young girl her age could be expected to. It seemed her father was having more than a little trouble accepting that.

However, while it was at the forefront of Spirit's mind for the time being, that wasn't the reason his soul had shifted. Even as they sat together on the front steps Stein could feel that familiar wavelength that his companion's soul always cast, which was still strangely off for some unknown reason. He desperately wanted to know the source of the change. It nagged at him more with every passing second.

Spirit drew in a long breath, feeling the unfamiliar sting as the cigarette's smoke filled his lungs. Amazingly enough, Stein was right: There really _was_ something about those that sincerely did help. Once again he grew quiet, his mind peacefully devoid of conscious thought, which was a welcome change.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

"Is something wrong, senpai?"

Spirit's palm met his forehead. "Did you not just hear a damn word I said?" he barked, "Of _course_ there's something wrong!" And with the end of that sentence, the waterworks were on their way again.

Stein quickly amended his statement, hoping to avoid yet another torrent of tears. "…Something _else_."

"Other than catching my daughter with her weapon's hand up her shirt, no," the Deathscythe sighed. "Why?"

Pale blue eyes trained on the lit end of his companion's cigarette as it moved with every word he spoke. "There's something different about your soul wavelength."

Spirit froze. Over all the years they'd been together he'd had multiple opportunities to see his weapon's soul, yet he was searching it now? Why now, of all times?

He suddenly felt exposed. Trapped. Cornered. He forgot that there were some things you simply couldn't hide from Stein. Once he found something that piqued his curiosity, he wouldn't rest until he'd divulged all its secrets. Though he'd told Spirit time and time again that he wouldn't ever read his soul under any circumstances, his companion knew better than to think he could stave off his curiosity for long. The man was a _slave_ to it.

So, did he let Stein find out on his own, as he eventually would, or did he come right out and say it? Divert, dodge, change the topic, or just flat-out lie—all it would do was delay the inevitable. Stein's principles would fold like a house of cards sooner or later, and he'd know the truth. He'd know all that had been kept hidden for countless years, from him, from Kami, from Maka, and even from Spirit _himself_.

Stein was a madman; that much was certain. But he was also kind and caring; funny and brilliant. No one knew better than Spirit did. The truth was that that same madman-the deranged, gifted scientist who had been his friend and partner-was also the same person he'd loved for over a decade.

Spirit turned his sights to his companion. He was calm, patient; not prying, but waiting. The weapon could read that much about his partner even with his face turned elsewhere. A breeze kicked up, tugging on the silvery wisps of his shaggy locks, and for a moment, Spirit could see every line on his face. Stein had laugh lines…who saw _that_ coming? Unobstructed by the thin spectacles that the scientist always wore, a glowing jade eye peered at him from the corner, its light drowning out the sunset. For a brief moment the weapon wondered if his former partner knew his eyes had the ability to do that; how they could captivate and hold one breathless, and how their spectacular color made everything else seem dull. Or perhaps that was merely his perception of them.

"Is there something on your mind, senpai?"

Stein could dimly sense that his probing was making his companion intensely nervous. Then again, it didn't take much to discern that. Knowing Spirit as well as he did, he could read him like a book with or without his soul perception abilities.

Spirit wasn't too proud to make a confession; especially since he would eventually be found out anyhow. But there simply wasn't a right way to put it. There never had been. He took several long drags of his cigarette, as if it somehow would give him the courage and clarity necessary to say what needed to be said. It didn't work quite as well as he hoped.

After moments of various monosyllabic unintelligible vowel sounds and incomplete sentences, Spirit extinguished what remained of his cigarette and turned his eyes to the horizon. "I…I don't know," he finally sputtered. How was it that only when he needed to say something important that the words wouldn't come?

Unfazed by his companion's ineptitude, the scientist placed his lit cigarette between his index and middle fingers, partially covering his mouth as he did so.

"I think I know what you're getting at," he stated impassively before taking another long drag.

"Y-you do?" Spirit stammered, unsure if he should be relieved or horrified.

The meister exhaled, sending a small stream of smoke up into the afternoon air, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth.

As casually as could be, he tapped its ashes onto the ground, turning his sights to his companion.

And in the very next moment, Stein's lips were nearly a whisper as they gently, briefly brushed against Spirit's own. Featherlike and soft, gentle and kind…_that_ was all the human weapon had imagined a kiss from his former partner would be like. That and so much more...

Just as quickly as it had all happened, the meister pulled away and returned the cigarette to his mouth, almost as though what they'd just shared was all hallucination.

Dumbfounded and speechless, Spirit was stock still, struggling to discern fantasy from reality. Wait…had that _really_ just happened? Had his childhood friend and former partner just _kissed him?_

"Is that what you were trying to say, senpai?"

Spirit could only nod in reply. Stein had always had a knack for taking the words from his mouth.

The unoccupied corner of the scientist's lips lifted in a small smile. "I thought as much."

…

Soul sighed. Maka seemed to have forgotten all about yesterday. Well, maybe not forgotten. Purposefully avoided the subject was more accurate. She didn't mention her Papa at all. And she most certainly didn't mention their brief little kiss. Her side was well on its way to healing, and though she kept it covered, the scratch on her cheek was almost gone.

The shock of that first day had worn off quickly; and, studious person that Maka was, she'd buried herself in books and schoolwork, with occasional bouts of deep thinking. Mostly about Crona, he realized. As if immersing herself in thoughts of the demon-swordsman could keep away the lurking memories of that day.

Soul kept his distance from her. He wasn't scared, he told himself. It was prudence-nobody wanted a Maka Chop. But this was getting old. His Maka didn't mope around. Sure, she was a girl-all girls seemed to have days when they weren't friendly...but this just wasn't normal, even for Maka.

So when Black*Star called, inviting him for a game of basketball with himself, Kid, Patty, Liz, and Tsubaki, Soul had hastily used Black*Star to help him concoct a plan to get Maka up and moving. Which worked out well when Black*Star told him that Liz was wanting to flake anyway.

It was tough work dragging an unwilling Maka-complete with her book-to the park. But the look on her face when Black*Star made her captain was well worth any potential Maka Chop. And he had to admit, Black*Star was one hell of a good actor. And apparently, Star had gotten Patty in on it somehow. Attacked from all sides, Maka had no choice but to give in and play as captain. He'd even had Black*Star suggest that as penalty for losing, she'd have to spend time with her Papa.

He'd thought it would be a good thing. Surely, given enough time alone together, they could work out some kind of understanding. He really hadn't meant to widen the rift that was already present between the father and daughter, but it'd seemed like that was just what he'd done. And with Black*Star's help, he'd tried to do something to fix it.

And here, now, Death Scythe was on the verge of ruining it, because Maka's team had (naturally) lost the game. Surely the bond between father and daughter wasn't horrible enough to warrant…puking? He sighed again, watching as Maka ran off to find some medicine for the more uncool of the two scythes in the park. And for the first time, he noticed Stein and some blond woman sitting down on the bench. He blinked. Who was she?

Curious, Soul turned toward his remaining companions to ask if they knew her, barely even noticing the silvery-haired doctor shaking his head, eyes never straying from the exuberant Death Scythe.

…

Stein shook his head. Happy puking? Apparently there were some things about Spirit he might not ever understand.

But he was definitely a lot closer after last night.

At long last, he'd found the reason behind the shift. It was surprisingly simple…one uncomplicated little thing that had evaded them both for years. Something both of them had always felt, and something that both had always hid. It seemed so obvious when he thought back on it: Those things that Spirit had done for him in the past weren't because he was _loyal_ to his meister, but because he _loved_ him. Yet, he never expressed it. Instead, he buried it…and somehow, someway, after being reunited as weapon and meister once more, Stein had uncovered it.

It all seemed so easy to say—to think of—but was so very complicated and difficult when put into practice, when actually initiated. And so, right there on the front porch where they'd been sitting side-by-side, they'd talked. When Spirit wasn't able to find his words Stein found them for him, often speaking without a sound, as the most profound sentiments didn't need translation. Each meeting of their lips told more than any verbal explanation could accomplish; each one revealing secrets neither of them had the words to express, until finally there were no more.

When sunlight came again and the next morning dawned, it found Spirit resting comfortably against Stein's shoulder, exhausted, but never more content; never more freed. He seemed completely at peace.

…At least until it set in that the day they'd have to go speak with Shinigami had arrived.

With that realization, he'd immediately panicked. Stein had had to nearly drag the weapon by his tie to see the Death God. For some reason, he'd become convinced that he was to be punished for allowing Asura to revive, as though he was solely to blame. At some point the red-headed scythe had also conjured an irrational fear that the gathering of the Deathscythes meant that he would be moved to a new, remote location as punishment. Much to the weapon's relief his presumptions proved false, though that was really only a surprise to Spirit.

Despite Shinigami-sama seeking out all of the world's living Deathscythes—eight, with Spirit included—only three more turned up.

Including _her_...

* * *

**AN: **So very sorry about the long wait! T.T I didn't intend for it to take me that long to get this chapter up! Next chapter should be up a LOT sooner; just bear with me/us! ^^;


	4. Elucidation

**Author's Note: **_**This chapter contains a hint of reference to YAOI - male/male sexual intercourse - particularly that involving Stein and Spirit. Can't take it? Don't like it? Then __**don't read it**__!** _

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**Chapter Four: Elucidation**

Though it'd been quite a while since he'd seen her, Spirit would never forget that face. It was the same one that had been casually on Stein's arm some time ago. So she was a Deathscythe as well? He'd had no idea. In all the years since his completion by his wife—well, ex-wife—he'd never had the opportunity to meet the other Deathscythes. He knew their names and various other details that Shinigami-sama disclosed, but that was the extent of it.

So she was Marie Mjolnir, otherwise known as "The Hammer." He'd certainly heard of her, yet was completely unaware that hers was the face that went with the title. For such a fearsome moniker she certainly was a meek, petite young woman; she seemed far too gentle and kind for someone with that nickname. Yet, she'd partnered with Stein in the past, and found herself being asked to do it again in order to ensure the availability of Shinigami's personal weapon. There was no need for an incident such as that which had just transpired to be repeated, after all.

Despite the changes made during the Deathscythes' meeting, Shinigami-sama privately requested that Spirit continue to keep an eye on Stein—which, for the first time in the weapon's life, didn't seem so bad. He'd actually been given an alibi—an _excuse_—to spend time with his former meister. In a shocking revelation, he realized that a part of him was actually looking forward to it.

There was only one problem: Stein was going to have a roommate.

That could make things complicated.

Secrecy was his top priority for one very important reason: His daughter. If anyone caught wind of the goings-on between he and Stein, it would more than likely reach Maka before too long. And, thanks to that no-good shark-toothed weapon of hers, she probably already had her suspicions—there was no need to provide her with evidence. Their relationship was a joke as it was; her opinion of him couldn't get much worse. If she heard that her Papa actually _did_ have strong feelings for his former meister, she'd probably never so much as even look him in the eye ever again. Above all else, he had to avoid that at all costs. No one in the world could ever mean more to him than Maka. Not Stein, not Kami, not Shinigami-sama—nobody. For that reason among countless others he swore that he'd always protect her—even if it meant keeping secrets. Though there was still no bliss in her ignorance, it was a whole lot better than things would be if she knew.

…

Thinking he still had a small window of opportunity to speak with Stein privately before his new houseguest arrived, Spirit traveled back to the patchwork laboratory.

But, as luck would have it, he swung open the door and ran smack into the very person he'd hoped to avoid.

"Hey Spirit," Marie chirped, "What brings you here?"

"Oh, I…" Spirit began, unconsciously scratching at the back of his head nervously.

"He came to see if you needed any help moving in," Stein finished for him, rolling into sight from behind her in his trusty wheeled office chair.

"That's so nice of you!" She smiled widely. "I had no idea you were so thoughtful!"

The redhead did his best to return the expression given him in a convincing manner.

"Yeah, neither did I," he muttered under his breath, casting a glare to the scientist who merely responded with a smirk before returning to his work on his desktop computer.

Marie cheerily brushed past her fellow Deathscythe, gesturing for him to follow her. Slowly but surely, he did.

If she didn't know any better, she would've thought that there was something amiss. First, she'd found Stein and Death Scythe together in the hallway at Shibusen, then Spirit had trailed them to the basketball courts, and now he was showing up at the laboratory? That all certainly seemed odd, especially considering how estranged they'd been when she was dating Stein. The scientist never so much as even talked about his former weapon partner—not even when she blatantly _asked _about him. But then again, it'd been a while since she'd seen either of them; perhaps things had changed. It wasn't that unfeasible to think that they'd grown to enjoy each other's company, was it? Even someone as mad as Stein could still have friends. There was no need for her to be so critical.

While the two Deathscythes loaded boxes into the laboratory, Marie decided to strike up a conversation.

"I haven't heard anything new about Kami for a while. How's your wife doing?" she inquired politely, setting another box onto the floor of her new bedroom.

Spirit's face flattened at the question. "…Ex-wife."

The young woman visibly cringed and placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "Oh my. I'm sorry! I shouldn't have asked…"

"Don't worry about it," the redhead shrugged, giving his companion his best understanding smile.

"I hope you're okay," she continued earnestly. "I know you two had a daughter together…how's she taking it?"

Spirit's heart sank. No sooner than he began to feel the familiar sting of tears burn his sapphire eyes, a voice floated down the hallway, as if on cue.

"Marie," Stein called. "I have a favor to ask of you."

…

Later that evening, Marie returned to her temporary new abode she shared with her temporary new partner, her arms loaded down with groceries and other provisions she'd been requested to attain. Stein certainly needed a lot of peculiar, hard-to-find items… But then again, he'd always been quite an eccentric individual, to say the least. She was just grateful she was able to find them all; she figured she owed him at least that much for giving her a place to stay.

He had been so considerate as to welcome her into his home, giving her only one rule to abide by. It was a simple enough request that most anyone would feasibly ask for—all he required was that she never entered his personal quarters when the door was shut. She could live with that, and so she'd made the commitment to do so.

Pushing past the heavy front doors to the laboratory with a shoulder, she immediately noted that the entire building was dark; there wasn't even the glow from the computer monitor to provide any light. On top of that, it was relatively early in the night, and yet all was quiet. Reaching out with an elbow, she nudged the nearby light switch on. There was nobody in sight.

"Stein?" she called, feeling more than a bit nervous. Stein was a night owl; some nights, damn near an insomniac. It was _far_ too early for him to be sleeping. Was he even home? Had he snuck off while she was out? She silently prayed that wasn't the case…

Setting down her payload, she glanced around the area, calling his name once more and again getting no reply. But, as she peeked down the main hallway, she could see his bedroom door was closed. Poking out from underneath it was some sort of dark patch that she couldn't quite discern.

Heading over to investigate the matter, she bent down to see it was some sort of clothing article. Pinching it between her thumb and forefinger she gave it a tug, and quickly realized it was a silk tie.

Not just any silk tie, either: A cross-shaped silk tie.

Death Scythe's tie.

Oh no. What if the madness had claimed Stein and he was in there experimenting on Spirit? What if he ended up mortally wounding him? How would Stein answer to Shinigami-sama after killing his personal weapon? Furthermore, without a weapon, how would Shinigami defeat Asura? Even more terrifying was the prospect that he could replace him with another of the Deathscythes…possibly even her! Then she'd _never_ get married!

Despite the promise she'd made both to herself and her gracious host, she was quite certain these were extenuating circumstances. For the sake of Shibusen—no, all of Death City!—she needed to open that door!

First, she pressed her ear to it.

She briefly recalled that Stein enjoyed music—particularly Classical—while performing his experiments. There was no music this time. However, if the madness was plaguing him as she suspected that could change, and she needed to be sure. With great trepidation she turned the knob and carefully opened the door, just far enough to peer inside with one hazel eye.

Her gaze scanned over the moonlit room, tracing along the trail of clothing starting with two pairs of shoes near the door, to the wheeled patchwork chair where Stein's lab coat was tossed over its back, along with another item much smaller and contrasting in color. Spirit's blazer..?

Her sights traveled further onward over indistinguishable odds and ends of clothing until they came upon the nightstand where the moonlight glinted off of the round lenses of the meister's glasses.

To the left, she could make out a shimmer of silver. Much to her relief, Stein was asleep.

But he wasn't alone.

There was a mop of shaggy scarlet sitting atop the meister's chest. Death Scythe had one arm tossed over his former partner, fingers placed as though they'd once been tracing one of the many sutured scars on his body. Stein's nose was partially nuzzled into the vibrant crimson of the weapon's hair, his face slack and serene. In her eyes, they were a picture perfect moment frozen in time. She'd never seen either of them so peaceful and content.

It all made sense to her now: Death Scythe's constant shadowing of Stein, her own failed relationship with the scientist—even Spirit's divorce. Without any further knowledge, she knew why they'd separated: It wasn't that Spirit couldn't devote himself to Kami, it was that he'd already committed to somebody else.

As quietly as possible she closed the door behind her, leaving the tie to hang on the knob.

* * *

"Miss Marie?"

"Oh, Maka," the lady said, turning around. She gave one of her bright smiles to the young girl. "What can I help you with?"

"I..." Maka twisted her fingers into the fabric of her skirt. "Can I...talk to you?"

"Of course. Anytime, Maka. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well…it's..." she looked around. "Can we not do this in the hallway? I...I'd talk about this with someone else, but...the only woman I really know now is Blair." Maka shuddered. "And I don't want to ask her about this. She probably wouldn't understand anyway."

Marie smiled at the girl. "Okay. We can go back to Franken's la..."

"NO!" Maka said hastily. "No, there's…no need for that."

The Deathscythe blinked. "Alright. How about the classroom, then? It's empty for now," she motioned to the door behind her. The ash-blond scythe technician nodded and followed the older woman.

"What seems to be the matter, Maka?"

Maka leaned against the desk while Marie took a seat in the chair behind it. Maka kept twisting the fabric of her skirt. "A few days ago...the day after we fought Asura..." she began, "Soul kissed me."

Marie blinked, but thought she might be seeing what the girl's hesitance in speaking stemmed from. Any teenage girl would feel awkward if her best friend kissed her out of the blue. Well...it _was_ out of the blue right? Marie felt two sides warring within her.

There was the maternal and the romantic side of her, sighing dreamily and sympathizing with the girl's plight. Then...there was the jaded, almost depressed side of her demanding how this little slip of a girl could get a guy quicker than she could. But, in the end, the maternal side won out.

"Against your will? Or..."

"No!" Maka nearly screeched, almost choking. "No," she said, quieter, staring intently at her hands. "No, Soul would never do anything like that against my will. He's just..." she giggled. "That would be too 'uncool'. Cool guys don't have to force girls. And…I…I liked it. A lot," she blushed.

"And you don't know how to deal with this?" Marie surmised.

"Well...that's not really the problem. I mean...I'd certainly come to you. Or maybe Tsubaki or someone, if I need advice or anything. I think I can deal with this. On my own. At my own pace. What...well, see…Soul was bandaging up my side, where I got hurt." She unconsciously placed a hand over the spot. "So my shirt was pulled up just a bit. And one thing led to another, and we were kissing, nothing more. But...well, I suppose it might have seemed like a bit more..._intense_...than it really was. And...well…my Papa came in the apartment and saw us."

Marie blinked once, then twice. Then again. She and Spirit weren't very close. Never had been. She'd worked with Kami once or twice, so she certainly knew a bit of Spirit's protective streak. She could only imagine what happened. It wouldn't have been out of the question for Spirit to decapitate Soul. And since she'd seen Soul since then, she assumed it didn't turn out too bad.

"May I ask what happened?"

"Papa—being Papa—wouldn't calm down and he and Soul sort of got into an argument. Soul...Soul said something." She cast her eyes downward, voice somehow confused, wondering. "Something about Papa...and Professor Stein. He sort of...insinuated that Papa and..." she swallowed. "That Papa and Professor Stein were, well, more than friends. That they were..." she shook her head, unable to speak the words that she'd even been afraid to think.

Marie's mind immediately remembered that night, Spirit cuddled up close to Stein's chest in the darkness, both of them content. Had Soul put things together like she had? Oh...poor Maka.

"Maka," Marie said softly. "You're worried that your father and Stein are romantically involved?"

Maka nodded, keeping her eyes closed, then she blinked at the teacher with wide green eyes. Marie was struck with how much Maka looked like Spirit. Of course, physically, they weren't that identical...but...the way she looked. That face...it was that of a lost puppy looking for its way home; the same face she'd seen Spirit make countless times. Maka had inherited more of her father than anyone realized...even them.

"Why would that worry you so? Do you find that sort of relationship repulsive?"

Maka blinked. "No. I'm not narrow-minded and prejudiced. If I can accept Kim and Jacqueline then I can most certainly accept two men. It's just...but...Papa…he's just a skirt-chasing cheater," she said the last part with age-old vehemence.

Marie frowned, and felt a tug at her heart. How hard must it have been for Maka to watch her father run around on her mother? Marie might be able to understand...she'd had to work with Kami, after all...but Maka might not understand that. It was sad that this was how Maka thought of him. How much had Kami influenced her, and how much was her own conviction?

"Maka, your father loved your mother very, very much. You know that?"

"He says that, but...Miss Marie, why'd he still run around?" She pushed off the desk, spinning around. Her green eyes flashed. "If he loved us so much, why didn't he act like it?"

"Your father only wants to be loved, Maka. He only wants to be really loved. He loved your mother...but can you say the opposite was true?"

"Of course she-..."

"Maka, Maka," Marie said quietly, shaking her head. "I know you don't want to see it...but you see it anyway. Your mother loves one thing: Her job. She may have _thought_ she loved Spirit, but she never really did."

"You lie!" Maka screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Stop saying that!"

"Fine. I won't say it. But I will say that your mother never loved your father the way he wanted to be loved. The way he needed." She stood up, even her own petite frame seeming to tower over the upset child. She reached out, placing her palms on Maka's shoulders. "Do you hate your father?"

"No," she said, looking up, aghast. "I mean…no. Papa's papa... but he's still my Papa."

Marie nodded, a serene smile on her lips. She'd thought as much.

"Papa needs love, too," she murmured to the girl. "Can you deny him for looking for that? Can you deny him if he finds it...even if he finds it in a most unusual place?"

Maka blinked. Papa needed love? And...well, Stein was certainly crazy and sadistic...but he was also sweet and funny. And kind at the oddest of moments. Maybe Stein needed love, too.

Had they found it in each other?

"I have a lot to think about, Miss Marie," she said quietly, gently removing the woman's hands. "Thank you so much."

Marie watched as the girl disappeared out the door. And she smiled. She had a feeling that nothing would ever make those two have a typical father-daughter relationship-but hopefully, hopefully it was on its way to mending.

She hoped so; she couldn't stand broken things.

Then she blinked.

"So wait...even Stein and the little girl find love before I do?" She asked the empty room, then burst into tears.

Sometimes life was so unfair.

* * *

**ANs: **Once again, just as a reminder, Spirit and Stein were written by Silent Epiphany, and Maka and Marie were written by the lovely StandingOnTheRooftops. Thanks for reading—and remember—we love reviews! :D


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